


finer things

by coffeecrowns



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Heiress Juno, Heist, How to Steal a Million - 1966 Fusion, Juno's mom is around and sucks, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Romantic Comedy, Secret Identity, but you don't need to be familiar with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecrowns/pseuds/coffeecrowns
Summary: Heiress to a fortune based on art forgery and brutality, secret HCPD consultant Juno Steel has enough to deal with before he accidentally shoots would be art thief.Who might be the answer to a lot of other issues.





	finer things

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my girlfriend, who is brilliant and beautiful, not to mention the reason this fic exists and the reason I had to google how this movie actually resolves.

It’s a pretty classic story, I’ll admit. A high class young lady on Mars, with my own wing of the floating family mansion, who every time leaves he leaves the house is forced to look at the statue that made it all happen. He attends the social functions, should  _ really  _ get married sometime soon, and dreams of leaving this show behind. 

Here’s the punchline: I’m that lady. 

And I hate that stupid statue.

 

My comm rings and I pick up, only to hear Cass Kanagawa talking my ear off, “Juno!” she yells in greeting. “I just heard! Is your mom seriously lending  _ The Cellini Martian  _ to that museum?”

The statue of course, has a name. The Cellini Martian is probably the ugliest Martian artifact ever faked.  

“She is,” I responded, acting like it was annoyance fueling my responses, because, well, I really didn’t know what my mother was up to. Other than making our entire fortune by art forgery. Which might have been nice of her, under any other circumstances. “What’s it to you?”

“Ah, there’s the Juno I know and would never marry.” Of all the rich heiresses in Hyperion City, I consider myself lucky to have a friend in Cass. Don’t tell her I said that.

“Right back at you, Cass. Now are you calling for a reason other than gossip?”

“Well, when you ask that like, are you interested in making headlines and going out tonight?” It probably wouldn’t make headlines, unless we did something noteworthy, so, actually, on second thought, we would probably make headlines. 

“I’m actually going to stay in tonight, I’m going to have the house to myself since, well, she’s out most nights and I’m a fan of the quiet.” 

“Alright Junebug. I’ll do an extra shot for you.” She cut the call before I could respond, probably because she was needed in makeup. Or on set. Or she was tracked down by camera men. If there was one good thing about the Steel Mansion, it’s the privacy. Once you’re alone that is. 

I liked Cass. So I had lied about my exact plans for the night. I really wanted the privacy to get some work done. I’m a consultant to the HCPD, a secret one. I’m useful to them. The glitz and glamour of the upper class is one thing, but once you get through that layer, there’s no lack of secrets. Like art forgery. Or murdered siblings. 

So I help the cops. The good ones, not that there’s many. And in no real official capacity. I don’t get paid. I don’t get my name on cases, but well, if I cared about fame I could finally cave and take part in one of the hundred Kanegawa shows I’ve been offered a role in since I was allowed to say no. I was twelve, if you were interested. Legal say in my body, which is nice. I made it, which is one of those horrifically unfunny jokes. Ben didn’t get a chance to refuse his contract. 

Anyways. I go on. I do my job. Try to put a stop to some of it. Sometimes I can convince myself I make any sort of difference.

 

I was home alone, if you ignored our chief of security and sometimes butler, Rita. And if you could ignore her, I would applaud you. She was more cut out for this life. Always in fashionable, bright clothes, up to date with the gossip. I might have been jealous if she wasn’t the only person I could honestly call a friend. Fortunately, I didn’t have to, there were some classic soap streams on. I’d be alone. 

I booted up my computer. My work computer. I had the high end one I got replaced every year or so, which any family business went through. But my work computer I bought with the only money I really considered mine, I sold a handful of shoes to various people who worked for us over the years. Untraceable credits. Bought the best computer I could. And a blaster. Neither were great quality, but, well, they got the job done. 

The first half dozen messages waiting for me were for an open investigation into the stupid statue sitting in my foyer. And my mother’s involvement. And what sort of scheme she was in on. 

Did I mention that my name isn’t on any HCPD cases because they don’t have it? 

Because they didn’t. They knew roughly my tax bracket and that I had connections. But wrong pronouns, different name, and thought I was less well off. White lies, I had told myself. Justified, to keep my privacy. Well, now, they were going to expose me to the HCPD, expose my family as the art forgers, and send my mother off the deep end. Again. 

I wanted to scream. 

Instead I heard a noise, from downstairs. I shut my computer and hid it, worried my mother was home early. It only happened when she was particularly drunk and unruly. I wasn’t the scared kid I used to be, but it was easier to let her wear herself out, while I was well hidden. Not like there’s anyone else she could hurt.

But it wasn’t the sound of any of her heels. It was lighter, but more solid.

I grabbed my blaster. And climbed down out of my closet hiding place. I left my room.

 

And from the top of the stairs, I could see him. He was tall, and gorgeous. Lithe, but solid. Silky black hair. He looked so comfortable, I couldn’t believe I’d never seen him in the house before. Then his eyes met mine. They softened slightly, maybe for a second. Or I imagined it. Then, he looked very very nervous. 

It was probably because he was standing on top of a glass table and removing the van gogh fake hanging on the wall. Yeah. That would do it. 

Before the thief could blink, I had my blaster trained on him. Set to stun, obviously, but, well, he didn’t know that. He slowly removed his hands from the painting’s frame. He wore gloves, so clearly he wasn’t stupid, but, he still was looking me in the eyes. 

“May I step down from the table, Mr. Steel?” He asked. And even his voice was charming. 

“Sure,” I said, amicably, but my blaster didn’t leave him. He stepped down, slowly, gracefully. Dressed in a deep navy suit, that moved around him like water, he was like nothing i had seen before. He stepped down, and took a step towards me. 

“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to see this as an unfortunate misunderstanding, would you?” He asked. 

In another life, they might have been a prince speaking to the princess up in the tower. I stood high above him from my vantage point on the stairs. More fitting, though, was the higher power, watching. 

“No,” I said carefully, “It’s hard to convince anyone in my line of work of lies that convenient.” 

“You are a clever one, Mr. Steel,” he responded, with that voice and those  _ eyes.  _

“Juno,” I responded, for no good reason, except apparently I just want to suffer. “Call me Juno.”

“Juno,” he repeated. I couldn’t even describe the look on his face. Then it went back to the classic charming look. “I don’t suppose we could negotiating you putting the blaster down?”

He was making it very difficult to dislike him. I didn’t want to shoot him. Unfortunately for both of us, somewhere outside the mansion, there was a very loud crash. And I startled. And shot the thief right in the shoulder. 

He collapsed in a heap. I rushed down the stairs to him, and took a look. He was out cold, but breathing normally. My blaster was old, and my stuns usually wore off after ten minutes. Rita didn’t seem to be bothered by the sound of him hitting the floor, which, actually, after how long she had worked in this house didn’t surprise me. 

“Alright, you stupid thief,” I said, mostly talking to myself. “What am I going to do with you?” I sat on the floor next to him, after lying him to hopefully be more comfortable.

I hadn’t exactly shot anyone before.

I was a good shot, at least in ranges and staged sets. I impressed a few up and coming starlets by some good shots. But, this, this was real.

So I sat, and watched, and resisted the urge to run my hands threw his hair. It occurred to me to call the cops. We bought off enough that we would be okay. But calling in any favours now would only weaken any chance of assistance with the growing interest on the stupid statue. I could deal with this by myself. 

 

Nine minutes and change after he went down, the thief opened his eyes. 

“Juno?” he asked, sounding slightly muddled. “Did you shoot me?” That was a lot clearer. 

“Yes?” I said. He managed to make eye contact with me, but still had a too relaxed smile on his face. 

“Did I deserve it?” he asked with a grin. 

“Only a little bit,” I responded. I failed in keeping from smiling back, but well. These things happen. 

He blinked a couple of times, and then sat up. I forced my face into practiced neutrality. 

“I must admit, you’ve put me in quite the predicament here, Juno dear.” 

“Oh?” I asked. 

“I can’t call myself a cab, nor can I drive myself back to my hotel.”   


“And I’m sure you want some distance from the scene of the crime.” I responded flatly. 

“I would, yes,” he said. “That’s generally how you stay alive in this business.” 

He was right. I knew that from experience. I wasn’t happy I could get behind anything he said, but well. I was also in trouble if I was found here. I weighed my options, and sighed. I really didn’t like my options. But that’s pretty standard in my life. 

“I can drive you back,” I said. “You can pay for my cab back.” 

I thought about what I was wearing. A pale pink dress that I’d definitely slept in a time or two. It didn’t match any of my shoes, so I pulled on a pair of black plain boots. I grabbed my jacket, the one I had to pretend didn’t exist. It was long and nearly black and soft. Probably the anathema to anyone versed in fashion.

The thief said, “You look stunning.” 

I kept my face politely neutral. “Do you have a name?” 

“Rex Glass,” he said, carefully. It was a fake name, obviously. It suited him though, but I couldn’t tell if it was a matter of professionalism or personal taste. Having known the man for about seven (conscious) minutes, I guessed some mix. I didn’t say that though, instead I gave a little half smile and said, “Okay, good to meet you, Mr.  _ Glass _ .”

He just smiled that fox like smile. I really wanted to dislike that smile. 

 

He lead us out to the car. It was nice, more eye catching than any car had any reason to be, but subdued by Hyperion City standards. It was long, a pearl like off-white. It was beautiful, if not cold. 

He opened the door for me. 

“You certainly know how to treat a lady,” I remarked. He hopped into the passenger seat. 

“You never know when you’ll meet one you need to impress,” he responded. 

“And I suppose you have experience,” I said. Of course he did.

“You could say that,” he said, carefully. “But I like to believe they’ve all been practice for you.”

I put my foot to the gas, and made sure Rex Glass had the ride of his life. Other things I hadn’t actually done for real tonight: driving. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Or well, it couldn’t hurt me. 

Glass went pretty pale pretty quickly, which I took as a compliment, his knuckles turned white with the force he held onto the side of the car. Fortunately it was late enough that people are out at parties, but not late enough for any real rush to get home. It was romantic, if you could ignore the layers of illegal activity I was wrapped up in. 

I frowned, thinking of how this only made me more vulnerable. If this ever came out, I would lose my credibility, everything I’d been making for myself. 

“Juno-” said the man with the fake name. I hit the brake harder than I strictly needed to. 

Rex’s hotel came into view, and I pulled up in front, and threw the keys to the valet. 

“Juno,” he tried, again. 

“What,” I said, flatly. 

“I’m sorry for bringing you into this,” he said. It was softer, somehow. More honestly. I wanted to hate myself for falling for it. Then, the the concierge, he raised his voice to say, “Could you please call this darling thing a cab?” The man reached for a comm, to arrange my ride home. 

“Well, I’m the one who shot you,” I responded. 

“It wasn’t altogether an unpleasant night,” he said, with that same smile. 

“We must have different standards for unpleasant,” I said, hopefully so I wouldn’t smile back, but I looked into his beautiful, dark eyes. He looked back.

“I hope you aren’t too put out,” he said. 

“You’re paying for my cab,” I said, “It’s highway robbery.” 

“Oh Juno,” he said. And he leaned in, as we were surrounded by the golden glow of a high end hotel, with at least one concierge rushing to advert their eyes, and laid his lips on mine. 

I leaned in, and closed my eyes as he reached a hand to cup my face. They were soft, like his lips. Somewhere along the line, he must have taken off his gloves, but I knew I would never find prints. If the thief was smart, he’d never see me again. If I was smart, I’d never see him again. So, really, I had nothing to lose. I deepened the kiss. His teeth dragged against my lower lip, and I made an unladylike noise. 

All too soon, I heard the cab pull up front. We pulled back. The thief opened my door for me, and before I stepped in, said, “Goodnight Juno.”

“Goodnight,” I said.

 

I wanted to live in this moment as long as I could, but I knew we both saying goodbye. He shut the door once I was settled. The cabby drove me home. I watched the hotel lights fade into the brilliantly lit up sight that is Hyperion City at night. I smoothed out my coat, only to realize there was something that didn’t belong. A folded piece of paper. 

I unfolded it quietly. 

_ Juno, _

_ I may be the thief, but you have stolen my heart.  _

_ Peter Nureyev _

On the back of the paper was a number. Peter Nureyev’s number. 

And just like that, I had a plan. It was a bad plan. It would only bring me deeper into the things I stood against. Was trying to stand against. But, I was dumb, and I was stranded. And, I had Peter Nureyev on my side. 

So I figured I had a reason to try. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Also, I beg you to google this movie just so you can see the outfits Audrey Hepburn wears. Now imagine Juno in them.


End file.
